


All the Stars

by GordandV



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously...?, Gen, Recreational Drug Use, improper use of paint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GordandV/pseuds/GordandV
Summary: "You sure you’re alright?” ventures Jason, unsure if it’s the weed or potential buried suicidal intentions that has Dick confessing.“I am amazing, you have no idea,” Dick assures them as he tips his head back. Fireflies blink and disappear while the stars remain constant. “I never want this night to end. I feel great, and you two are here with me, and I can’t remember the last time I had fun like this.”





	All the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> A "who knows where this actually fits in terms of canon or scientific accuracy, but it's getting posted anyways because it made someone smile" fanfiction. Gord wrote it, V smiled at it, and Gord refused to post it, so V is.

“We are going to be in so much trouble,” Roy whispers before he inhales from the blunt that Jason is holding in front of his face. “But honestly, I can’t even care right now. Look at him.”

“Yup,” Jason agrees, taking another hit and exhaling slowly. He is a man who has already accepted his fate.

Both are settled into soft, comfortable lawn chairs behind Wayne Manor on a warm summer night that is filled with soundtrack music from Dick’s iPod thanks to the outdoor speakers and gentle crash of ocean waves. Fireflies get lost against the clear night sky where, just for moments, they can become stars. A few feet away Dick is dancing with both hands upwards, but not the normal dancing that most people would expect from him. Instead of the rigid classics or seductive movements to pick up one-night stands, Dick moves like no one is watching. He spins in slow, graceful circles, every couple of seconds laughing out. Bare feet get lifted and provide more momentum for spinning while hands level outwards for balance. His head bobbles around as he laughs every few seconds before he finally topples over from too much spinning.

“Shit,” Roy says in alarm, but Jason merely holds his arm out and blocks him.

“Relax.”

Dick chuckles softly as he unsteadily gets back to his feet before signing softly along to the song. He turns on the spot a few more times before his feet still. He continues to sway as his hands slowly move over his stomach, up his chest, his neck, then over his face and into his hair. He grins widely as he reaches backwards, as if he doesn’t have a single care in the world. It truly does break Jason’s heart to see Dick look so happy because if not for his and Roy’s intervention, it would never be happening in the first place. He knows Dick and grin and fake it like a pro, and however genuine Dick is now, likely the first time in months, it’s not unaided joy.

“Dickie, you good?” Jason calls as Dick suddenly starts staring at his own hands, looking baffled.

“Yeah,” Dick breathes. “Do we have paint?”

“Paint?” repeats Jason slowly.

“What kind of paint?” asks Roy as Dick puts his hands over his face, shakes himself a bit, then rushes off with a radiant smile.

“Damian’s got paint!”

“Shit, shit, shit” Jason curses as he and Roy both frantically get up to give chase. The blunt gets tossed into the little ceramic tray as worst-case scenarios run through their heads. Dick’s been high for about half an hour and has been nothing but pleasant and entertaining, though he hasn’t shown interest in anything other than dancing and staring at the sky and the fireflies. They find him inside of Damian’s room and rummaging through the boy’s collection of art supplies. He swats at Dick’s hand as he digs deeper into the container.

“I want paint,” Dick whines. Roy huffs and looks at Jason who shrugs.

“The fuck if I know why he wants paint.”

“I want paint,” Dick repeats, softer than before. He eventually pulls out three bottles of squeezable paint. Roy stays stock still as Dick gathers his prizes then stands up then approaches him. His eyes are blown wide, a little red, his cheeks unnaturally flushed, and then Roy finds himself with one of the paints tubes shoved down the front of his paints.

“Um, okay,” he states unsurely as Jason gets the same treatment before Dick bites the end of his tube then skips off.

Things only get weirder when they go back outside. Jason and Roy get gently pushed back to their lawn chairs and give up their paint. Dick smiles brightly and lines up the tubes almost reverently on the ground next to him. He sits back on his calves between Jason and Roy’s feet then rubs his hands together.

“Ready,” Dick hums as he goes for the tube of red paint. He shakes it up vigorously and long enough that Jason lights up a cigarette. He passes it over to Roy who takes a drag then tips his head backwards. He blows the smoke up into the sky as Dick stops shaking and pops the cap. He squeezes the tube onto his one palm until there’s a small mountain of paint.

“Damian gets the non-toxic stuff, right?” Roy asks as Dick puts his palms together and smears the paint across them both. He leans over, picks one of the other tubes, and exhales in relief. “Non-toxic.”

“Good,” Jason sighs. He takes the cigarette back and eyes Dick who shuffles in front of Roy as he separates his hands.

“Roy,” he states.

“Yeah, that’s me,” replies Roy slowly, carefully.

“You’re Roy,” Dick says softly, but he sounds almost relieved as he reaches out.  Roy grimaces as his face gets cupped by cold, paint covered hands. It’s unique feeling, and not exactly a pleasant one. He ignores Jason’s snickers as Dick presses a little harder then slowly brings his hands away. Roy can only imagine what he looks like as Dick blinks dreamily at him.

“Perfect.”

“Roy, holy shit,” breathes Jason, leaning forward with one elbow on a knee and cigarette held loosely between his fingers. “That’s a great look on you.”

“You’re next,” Dick hums, grabbing his shirt hem and tugging it off. His hands then go for his pants and those get tossed away too. While the night is warm and does encourage semi-nudity, Jason doesn’t think he or Roy are ready to deal with naked, high Dick.

“Hey,” Jason snaps as Dick reaches his still red damp hands for his boxers. “You leave those, got it?”

“What? No!”

“Dick, you keep yourself somewhat covered, got it?” warns Roy in his best stern voice which is a little hard to do because all he wants to do is giggle.

“Fine, fine,” Dick exhales, sounding like an exasperated parent doing a favor. He grabs his red paint again, adds more, and repeats what he did before. He wipes one hand down his ribcage then goes for the black tube. With surprising dexterity he gets that tube open, squeezes black paint on his thigh, then smears it. Jason can’t figure out what he’s doing until Dick gets onto his knees and smiles right at him. One hand is red, the other black.

“Jason,” he fairly coos, wiggling his fingers a bit.

Jason hesitates then sighs deeply while Roy snorts. “Go for it, pretty boy.” He leans forward more and lets Dick christen his face. Dick is gentle as he works, though it only lasts a few seconds. When he’s done he looks down at himself. He leaves a red hand print over his heart which is then followed by a black one that could maybe pass as someone trying to make a shadow. Both hands then get wiped down Dick’s legs as he grins.

“Dickie, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Jason asks as Roy not so subtly takes out a phone for a selfie.

“Colors,” replies Dick simply until his hands are mostly clean. The blue tube is used next, and Dick decorates his own face with that. He adds more afterwards to give hand prints to Roy and Jason which unfortunately encompass their whole faces. Roy wipes across his mouth to get rid of the paint their while Jason carefully rubs by his eyes to ensure he doesn’t blind himself.

“You two are perfect,” whispers Dick as he hand prints himself all over his front without even looking. “So, so perfect.”

“Aw, thanks Dickie,” Roy says, stretching out his arm and phone. “Hey, smile nice, okay? I need evidence that this actually happened.”

More than a few pictures are taken before Dick apparently loses patience. He pulls both of them up from their chairs and drags them to the crumpled grass. He keeps one on each side and never lets go of their hands as he starts to dance again. Their hands go up and down and ever other direction as he spins. The lights from the manor are dim but enough to illuminate their colors and Dick feels like the world could end right then and there and he would be alright with that.

“You don’t mean that, do you?” Roy asks as Dick tries to twirl them both.

“I do. Giant meteorite. Boom. I’d be alright with that,” hums Dick as he crosses his arms and has the two fumble to not clock into the other. “This is the best night ever. If I don’t wake up tomorrow, I’d be fine with that because anything after tonight would just be a letdown.”

“You sure you’re alright?” ventures Jason, unsure if it’s the weed or potential buried suicidal intentions that has Dick confessing.

“I am amazing, you have no idea,” Dick assures them as he tips his head back. Fireflies blink and disappear while the stars remain constant. “I never want this night to end. I feel great, and you two are here with me, and I can’t remember the last time I had fun like this.”

That’s partly why Jason and Roy got him stoned, though they’re still not sure if Dick agreed to get high because it was a perfect opportunity or if everything had finally gotten to be too much for him to handle. A greedy part of Jason wants Dick to have said yes because he couldn’t deceive everyone with his thin smiles and dead eyes and saying yes was just easier than having anyone try to make him admit he really wasn’t alright, hadn’t been for a while.

“Wow, I’ll have what he’s having,” laughs Roy, but it comes off a little nervous, a little concerned.

“You just having a good time, Dickie?” Jason asks sweetly, trying to hide his own panic. “Don’t want the party to stop?”

“Never ever,” Dick confirms, letting go of their hands and spinning wildly. “Look, I’m my own star!”

“I think he’s just relaxed,” whispers Jason. “I mean he’s stoned as fuck, but relaxed all the same. On some level he probably knows all this is only temporary.”

“I think I need another hit,” Roy admits sadly with a shake of his head. “We’re not here to worry tonight.”

“Yeah, worry is for us tomorrow,” Jason agrees. “Tonight we have a good time.”

“Damn good time,” Roy corrects with a wink. “Dickie, you want to try smoking something else? Scout’s honor I won’t tell anyone.”

That is how Jason finds himself settled next to Roy out in the grass with Dick spread over their laps, still half-naked and slathered in paint as Roy lights a new cigarette. “Little inhale, okay? Start slow.”

“I am such a rebel,” Dick murmurs as he reaches for the cigarette. He takes a long drag and splutters most of it out on his first try which sends Jason and Roy into a fit of sympathetic laughter.

They’re able to salvage one of their blunts from before and Jason is only a little afraid he and Roy have had too much to still be good Dick babysitters. The fears are unfounded when all Dick wants to do is finger-paint over their bodies, dance, and repeat. Even when Jason feels himself come down it’s not enough to stop him from feeling giddy. He lets himself get tugged up to dance, allows Roy and Dick draw shapes wherever he has skin, and for just a few hours he gets to forget about anything else. Escape is really the optimal word, but semantics. For a while he doesn’t have a world outside of Roy and Dick under the summer sky, and it’s the best feeling ever.

It’s when he and Roy have sandwiched Dick between them flat on the grass and are trading another cigarette around that a scream shatters their night. Roy and Jason shoot up just in time to hear, “My paint!” Dick remains on the ground, eyes shut and head rolling left and right.

“Fuck,” Jason and Roy both says as they spy Damian over by their lawn chairs before the boy starts stalking over to them.

“Damian? What happened?” comes Bruce’s voice.

“They weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon,” Jason hisses as he snubs the cigarette out in the grass while Roy sits Dick up.

“Ya think?” asks Roy darkly as he struggles to get one of Dick’s arms across his shoulders. “Stall them, maybe I can get Dick inside before-”

“Have you been using my paint?” Damian demands as he stops before the trio before his nose wrinkles. “How you been _smoking_?”

“Busted on both counts, sorry,” Jason laughs as he gets up and faces Damian who looks utterly stunned as his eyes move up and down.

“What have you done?” Damian whispers lowly as Roy finally gets to his feet with Dick.

“Just having a little fun, relax,” Jason says, and any hope of making a quick, relatively painless escape ends when Bruce jogs over to them. He opens his mouth like his wants to say something, but then he sees them, the lack of the clothes, the paint, and no doubt can smell what they’ve been up to. His expression morphs from concern to fury within seconds.

“Damian, get inside.”

“Father, they used my paint,” Damian cries. “I never gave them permission to use my paint in such a childish fashion!”

“I’ll take care of it, Damian, now inside.”

Damian huffs and goes rigid but doesn’t say another word. He does give another venomous glare at them before he trails inside. Bruce watches him go, waits until he’s far enough away, then turns back.

“I’m not going to ask why you stole Damian’s paint and decided to use yourselves as canvasses. I’m not going to ask why you decided to smoke technically still illegal drugs in my back yard. I’m not going to ask you anything except if you’re proud of yourselves.”

Roy and Jason are shamed enough to hang their heads while Dick snickers, “So proud, B, so proud.”

“Dick, you too?” Bruce asks, though his tone changes from righteous anger to disappointed parent.

“He’s stoned, alright? We are all,” Jason says. “Honestly, if you’re looking to feel better by yelling at us, maybe wait until we’re all sobered up. I think right now we’re going to take Dick inside, get cleaned up, then sober up, in that order. I can leave money for Damian’s paints on the table before we turn in, if you want.”

“It’s not the money, it’s the principle.”

“I know, believe me I know,” huffs Jason, sliding up to Dick’s other side and taking some of his weight. “Dickie, think you can walk?”

“I can fly, watch,” Dick snickers as he lifts his feet; Roy and Jason hold him up which sends him into a peel of laughter. “Look at me, flying!”

“Inside, cleaned up, then bed,” Bruce growls, pointing back at the house. “Now.”

Jason and Roy help walk Dick inside through the kitchen. Damian glares at all of them from his spot at the island counter then yelps when Dick abruptly barrels at him. Or, after a few seconds, rather not at him but instead for the bag of Doritos that Damian has.

“Hey!”

Dick nabs the bag, clutches it to his chest with one arm while the other free hand goes inside and returns with a handful than promptly gets shoved into his face. Numerous chips and crumbs fall to the ground and Roy snickers.

“I was wondering if he’d get the munchies. Hey, Dick, share?”

“Those are mine,” Damian whines as Jason looks at a half-eaten store-bought cake that Jason thinks Tim brought home. It’s some type of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and suddenly Jason feels like he hasn’t eaten in years.

“Damian, for your own safety I wouldn’t take those away from him,” Jason warns as he removes the dome lid from the cake while Dick moans rather pornographically around his mouthful of Doritos.

“Those are mine,” snaps Damian, “Grayson give them back.” He is forced to hop down from his chair to get to Dick while Roy digs through the silverware drawer. He goes to Jason with two forks then plops down on the kitchen floor. Jason grabs the bottom of the cake tray and carefully moves it to the floor as Damian’s attentions shifts to them.

“What,” he starts as if addressing someone with two brain cells, “Are you doing?”

“Floor cake,” Jason and Roy say together as Jason takes his fork while Roy digs in. Even though it’s store bought and mass produced, it’s one of the best cakes Jason’s ever tasted.

Damian’s already frustrated face wrinkles further. “Floor cake?”

“It’s basically a non-sober instinct,” Dick explains as he goes over to the kitchen counter and gets up on it. It takes a few more moments before he’s curled on his side with his back to the rest of the kitchen with the Doritos bag crinkling against his stomach as he munches.

“That is not an instinct,” Damian splutters as Jason and Roy continue to eat. “It’s stupidity!” He looks over as the door opens and rushes over to Bruce. “Father tell them that floor cake isn’t an instinct! And make Grayson give back my Doritos!” Just to make a further point Damian tugs on Bruce’s shirt insistently which he’s learned can, on occasion, make Bruce act quicker in his favor.

“Nope,” chimes Dick as he lifts his upper arm up to offer an orange-skinned, one finger salute without a hint of actual malice.

“Boys,” starts Bruce but his doesn’t say another word as he shakes his head slowly, sadly for a little bit. “At least the paint is dry.”

“B, you want some?” asks Jason, offering up his fork with a big hunk of cake. “It’s really, really good.”

“Super good,” Roy adds.

“Please,” Bruce begs, and Damian gasps quietly because he has seldom heard his father beg for anything. “Eat your food, clean yourselves up, then go to bed. I do not have the patience anymore to deal with you tonight.”

“Bullshit,” comes Dick’s drawled response with earns two low snickers.

“Dick, feet off the counters,” snaps Bruce, and for however menacing he moves he is gentle as he pulls Dick from off the counter and deposits him on the floor. He curls right back up around his bag of chips and continues to eat though Bruce hovers a bit before sighing loudly and patting his head.

“Chip?” offers Dick, shoving a triangle up towards where he thinks Bruce’s mouth is, instead stabbing it into his cheek and breaking it in half. “Aw, man down.”

“Jason, Roy…”

“Yeah, okay, we’re on it,” sighs Jason, shoving a massive chunk of cake into his mouth before rolling over to Dick. “Come on, Boy Blunder, bring your chips with you.”

“But-” Damian starts before Bruce fixes him with a look. “Fine.”

Dick hugs his Doritos as Jason slowly stands him up while Roy puts the cake back. Roy then waves to Bruce and Damian as they leave the kitchen. “Have some floor cake!”

“I’ll buy you more chips,” Bruce promises lowly as he and Damian watch with dual expressions of disappointment.

“Fine.”

The trek to Dick’s room is slow but steady. Jason pointedly locks the bedroom door while Roy takes Dick right into the bathroom and sits him on the bathmat. Taking away Dick’s chips proves to be the best idea of the night as it’s how Roy gets Dick to do what he wants, namely taking a shower.

“Nope, I still see paint,” Roy says when Dick opens the shower door for the third time with a baleful look at the bag in Roy’s lap. “Get clean and you get these back.”

Dick huffs but shuts the door again. Roy hums happily and takes a few chips for himself. Things go much faster once Dick is dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt and settled in his bed. He seems less interested in eating and just seems to want the bag as he actually cuddles the crinkly plastic like a baby or a puppy.

“Stoned,” Jason whispers with a shake of his head before he strips out of his clothes and hops into the shower. The curls of water down the drain change colors then eventually run clear. The water helps to clean Jason’s head, and he leaves it running for Roy who has a towel waiting for him.

“Switch.”

“You are the best,” smiles Jason, taking the towel and wrapping himself up. He steps out and Roy gets in with a groan.

“Oh god, this paint…”

“Yup, disgusting ain’t it.”

Eventually they return to Dick who appears fast asleep in bed. He doesn’t open his eyes while Jason and Roy crowd on either side of him and get comfortable. It’s not the biggest bed and makes a tight fit for three fully grown men, but the comfort in not sleeping alone is worth it. For someone like Dick it would normally be a dream come true to be sandwiched between two people, but he doesn’t make a peep when Jason puts a hand on his hip.

“Dickie, you really asleep?”

“He’s breathing, leave him be,” murmurs Roy, tugging the blankets under his chin and getting comfortable.


End file.
